My Relationship With Poetry

        Poetry is something that I have always struggled with. One could say that we have a very love-hate relationship. I have found that I genuinely love to read poetry. I enjoy being able to connect experiences and emotions within my life to the hidden messages and meanings within certain poems. I also really like the creative aspect that it gives both the writer and the reader. When writing a poem, there aren’t any limits to what the writer can write about or how they choose to write it. In terms of the reader, there is no right or wrong answer when it comes to interpreting the significance of a poem. It can mean one thing to one reader, and a whole other thing to another reader which just exemplifies the beauty of poetry - there are no limits.

        Although there are things I love about poetry, there are certain aspects and experiences that lead to this love-hate relationship. One thing that I don’t enjoy when it comes to poetry is the writing part of it. I love writing in general, but writing poetry is a whole different ball game for me. Being someone who is naturally very closed off and introverted, being vulnerable with my words is something that I am not very good at. To say the least, laying out how I feel on a sheet of paper is a scary thing for me to do. 

        If we are sticking on the topic of being scared and embarrassed, this is the way to do it. I had an experience with poetry in my sophomore year English class that I will never forget, nor will my friends let me forget. We were told to pick a poem of our liking, memorize it, and share it with the class. A week in advance, I found a poem I liked and memorized it to the core. I knew it so well that I could’ve recited it in my sleep… but this experience shows otherwise. It came to the day that we were sharing our poems, and I was as ready as I could be. Confidently, I walked up to the front of the classroom and began reciting my poem. I made it through 4 of the 16 lines before I began to stutter, and eventually stopped. I blanked. I was like a deer in headlights. Everyone’s eyes were on me. My friends were trying to help me and mouth the words to my poem, but I was so far out that I didn’t even notice. After what felt like hours of standing there, my teacher had helped me get through the proceeding 12 lines. I immediately, red-faced, rushed to the bathroom and cried. 

        I haven’t had the best experiences with poetry, as you just heard, but there are certain sides of poetry that I also love. Over these next couple weeks, I hope to redefine the relationship I have with poetry and grow along with it.